


Fallout: Empire of Dirt

by DrSquidMD



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: F/F, Gen, Multi, Novelization
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:01:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22984456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrSquidMD/pseuds/DrSquidMD
Summary: Mari is a Mojave Express courier. Her life is one of transience and travel. What seems like a routine delivery job quickly becomes a blood-soaked voyage of revenge that won't end until Mari resolves a mêlée à trois for rule over the entire Mojave wasteland. On the way, she'll meet new friends, have whirlwind romances, and catch the attention of bloodthirsty enemies.-This is a complete retelling of the story of Obsidian's Fallout New Vegas, through the lens of an impulsive, sarcastic, lesbian courier with deep convictions and a wide vengeful streak. Expect original characters, restructured events, fallout lore wank, and lots of reverent love for women.
Relationships: Female Courier/Sunny Smiles
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	1. Shot in The Head

I had a simple job, delivering a novelty poker chip from The Hub in California, to New Vegas, Nevada. I could see the lights of the city as the sun was going down, meaning I wasn’t more than a few days out. I was headed north on the I-15 when someone clubbed me in the back of the head with a shovel.

I started to come to as someone pulled me by the collar onto my knees. Someone else was speaking, “You got what you were after, so pay up.”

“You’re crying in the rain, Pally,” The second voice was snide, but had a well practiced cadence. As I opened my eyes I saw a jumpy looking man crouching over me, he must have been the one who clubbed me, considering he was still holding the shovel.

“Guess who’s wakin’ up over here,” He said, dancing from foot to foot. 

I looked up at the scene before me, finally taking it in. I was knelt in a graveyard, under a full moon. Three men stood in front of me, two in ragged leather uniforms and the third in a checkered leisure suit. Leisure-suit took a long drag from a cigarette before dropping and stamping it out.

He looked me dead in the eyes and said, “Time to cash out.”

“Would you get it over with?” The first leather-clad man asked impatiently. He was black, with an imposing voice and stance.

Leisure-suit put up a finger to silence him, “Maybe Khans kill people without looking them in the face, but I ain’t a fink, dig?” He dug a hand into his coat pocket, pulling out the platinum poker chip I was supposed to deliver. “Sorry you got twisted up in this scene,” He said, not an ounce of remorse in his voice. “From where you’re kneeling it must seem like an 18-karat run of bad luck,” He drew a gilded pistol from his jacket and aimed it at my face. “Truth is, the game was rigged from the start.”

Suddenly the world was nothing but noise and light, and then quiet darkness. I wasn’t sure if I was sleeping or dead. I had to be dead, that was the only thing that made sense. You don’t survive being shot in the face.

I supposed I did though, because the next thing I knew I was waking up with a pounding headache. I turned my head slowly, I was in a makeshift doctor’s office inside of someone’s house. I looked at the only other inhabitant, an old man sitting in the chair beside my bed. 

“You’re awake,” He said, his voice was gentle, if a little surprised. He picked up a glass of water and offered it to my lips. I took it and drank greedily, realizing how dry my mouth was.

“I dug most of the bits of lead out of you, but you won’t be winning any beauty pageants anytime soon. Can you tell me your name?” He asked as he took the glass back and set it down.

I swallowed hard, croaking out a quiet “Mari.”

The mustached doctor nodded, smiling, “It’s a shame we’re meeting under these circumstances.” He stood up before offering me his hand, “You’ve been warming that bed for a couple of days now. Why don’t we see if you’ve still got all your faculties about you?”

I took his hand and slowly sat up, the pounding in my head didn’t subside, but it seemed to get duller. “What’s your name, and where am I?” I asked, my words coming out slower than I intended.

“One thing at a time, little lady. Let me check your vitals,” He pulled a stethoscope up to his ears and started listening to my heart rate. “You’re in Goodsprings, and folks round here call me Doc Mitchell.” He put down the stethoscope and wrapped a blood pressure cuff around my arm. I stayed quiet during the tests. “Well, your vitals check out. No point in keeping you in bed any longer.”

Doc Mitchell helped me to my feet, I was a little woozy, but we slowly walked across the room. “You’re doing good! Most people don’t survive a bullet in the brain, let alone hop right out of bed afterwards. Why don’t we head into the other room and have a seat? I’d like to make sure those bullets didn’t leave you nuttier than a bighorner dropping.” 

I nodded and followed the doctor into the next room. The house was a small ranch style, with thick layers of dust on most of the furniture. I sat down on a threadbare couch and Doc Mitchell sat in a cracked plastic chair across from me, folding his hands in his lap.

“Alright, I have a few questions for you. First, can you tell me what you were doing before you got shot?” He watched me carefully as I answered.

“Well, I’m a courier with the Mojave Express. I was running a delivery out to New Vegas when someone attacked me. I woke up before a man in a checkered suit shot me in the head.” I recounted the story curtly. “He stole something from me, the platinum poker chip I was supposed to deliver.”

Doc Mitchell nodded quietly, “Seems like your memory is still with you. I reckon you’ll want some information, you should chat up Victor. He’s the robot who dug you out of that grave.” The doctor stood up and walked towards the front door. I followed him, my head finally clearing.

“You should also talk to Sunny Smiles down at the saloon, she can help you get your bearings back about you. Some of the other folks at the saloon may be able to help too.” He leaned down and picked up a battered duffel bag. “Oh, and before I forget, one of the townsfolk dropped this off. Said they found it up in the graveyard and reckoned it might be yours.”

“Thanks for patching me up, Doc,” I said, taking the bag and opening it to see my possessions. My dependable old hunting shotgun, a 9 millimeter pistol, some field rations and a handful of caps. It wasn’t much but it was basically everything I owned.

“That’s what I’m here for. If you get hurt again come on back here and I’ll fix you right up. But try not to get killed again.” The doctor chuckled and gave me a warm smile. I returned the gesture and turned to step out onto his front porch.

The morning sun was blindingly bright and seeing it sent a pang of pain through my head. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I found myself looking out at a tiny western town. I saw a robot making its way down the street ahead of me. I called out, “Hey, wait a second!” And walked up to him.

“Howdy Pardner! Might I say you’re looking fit as a fiddle!” The robot was some sort of military machine, very top heavy with a screen in its middle. The screen displayed a cartoon cowboy and the voice matched it.

I took a deep breath. “You’re Victor, right? Thanks for digging me out of that grave.”

“I sure am! And don’t mention it, I’m always willing to lend a helping hand to a stranger in need,” He explained cordially, gesticulating with one hose-like arm.

“How did you happen to find me?” I asked, trying not to sound too interrogative.

“Well I was out for a stroll that night when I heard a commotion up at the old bone orchard,” He gestured vaguely at the hill behind him, “Saw what looked like a buncha bad eggs, so I laid low. Once they’d run off, I dug you up to see if you were still kickin. Turns out you were. So I hauled you off to Doc right quick.” I leaned on a nearby truck while he talked, his cowboy shtick was a little grating.

“So do you know anything about the men that attacked me?”

“Can't say that I'm familiar with fancypants and his thugs. Some of the fine folks in town might be able to help you out with that.” The robot rocked back and forth on his solitary wheel. It made me kind of uneasy.

I nodded slightly, “What kind of robot are you? I’ve never seen one like you before.”

“I'm a Securitron, RobCo security model 2060-B. If you ever see any of my brothers, tell them Victor says howdy.”

“How’d you end up out here in Goodsprings?” I looked around the tiny town again. A few men were tending small gardens, and some bighorners were grazing in a paddock.

“I moseyed into town, oh, ten, fifteen years ago? Before that, I…” He stopped for a second, “Hmm, I can’t quite seem to recall. Odd.” I supposed robots got memory problems with age too. “Anyway, I’ve got a nice little house here in town. If you need anything, just come on over.”

“Thanks again, Victor. You, uh, take care.” I waved goodbye to the securitron and walked down the road towards the saloon. I made a mental note to check out the general store as I walked past it.

The Prospector Saloon was a squat building with a cobbled together neon sign and an old man sitting on the porch. A handful of motorcycles sat abandoned in front of it. I carefully stepped around them and onto the shady porch. 

“Howdy,” The old man said from where he was sitting. I was a little startled, but turned to him.

“Uh, hey. You a local here?” I asked, somewhat apprehensive.

“Ayup. Name’s Easy Pete. What can I do for you?” He seemed friendly enough.

“Oh, uh, do you know anything about the people who attacked me?” I tapped my foot softly.

“Those fellas? The one in the fancy suit seemed to be calling the shots, that's as much as I know. Other folks in town might know more.” He looked me dead in the eyes, “Word of advice, though: if you ever catch up with him, watch out. The man's got cold eyes like a snake. Can't be trusted, I'd say.”

“Thanks, I figured that much out when he shot me in the head,” I laughed humorlessly, Pete looked a little uncomfortable. “Anyway, take it easy, Pete.”

I turned away from the old man as he grunted a goodbye. I stepped through the door to the Saloon, it was much cooler and dimly lit inside. 

“Cheyenne, stay.” The voice came from a young woman holding a dog by its collar. I stared at her for a moment before realizing she was still talking, “Don’t worry, she won’t bite unless I tell her to. I’m Sunny. Sunny Smiles.”

I found myself scratching the back of my partially shaved head. Sunny was an exceptionally beautiful woman. I realized she was waiting for me to speak, “Oh, I’m Mari. Doc Mitchell told me to come talk to you. Said you could help me out.”

“Oh yeah. I couldn’t believe what they done to you. I can walk you up to the graveyard where Vic dug you up.” She smiled at me and I felt my face get a little warm.

“That would be appreciated.” I said, smiling back. 

She whistled to the dog and started walking out the back door of the saloon. I followed closely, admiring her mess of red hair. She wore leather clothes similar to mine and carried a rifle slung on her back. I adjusted my dufflebag and kept pace with her as she started up the hill behind the saloon.

“You must’ve really pissed those guys off, huh?” She asked idly as we marched up the hill.

I shook my head, “I’ve never seen them before that night. They were after a package I was carrying.” I frowned sternly now, “I need to get it back and show that suited fucker how it feels to get shot in the head.”

Sunny shook her head, “It must’ve been real valuable to be worth killing you like that over.”

“A thousand caps, at least. That was what I was getting paid to carry it.”

Sunny gave an impressed whistle, “Dang, must be real important to somebody out in the city.” I started to reply but she put a hand to shush me. Pointing up the hill she muttered, “We’ve got some critters. Nothing too nasty.” 

I drew my pistol from its holster at my hip, leveling it where Sunny was pointing. A large scorpion, easily two feet, was lying partially buried in the dirt. I aimed carefully at its many eyes poking up out of the sand. I shot twice and the monster was still. That’s when I heard a deep buzzing.

“Bloatflies, a mess of ‘em.” Sunny informed me, as I looked at the bumbling, basketball sized insects. They were staggering through the air towards us. One stopped and nearly fell from the air as it launched a globule of greenish bile towards us. It splattered uselessly on the ground near my feet, sizzling slightly in the dirt. I wrinkled my nose and looked to Sunny as she leveled her rifle. Three quick shots and all three flies were twitching on the ground.

“Damn, that was some fine shooting,” I was slightly amazed at her accuracy with that rifle. I wondered what she could do with a real weapon in her hands.

“Aw shucks, that’s nothing. I coulda taken out those bugs blindfolded.” She smiled after her boast, but I could detect some actual pride in her voice. I laughed softly and shook my head before walking into the small graveyard. Cheyenne found a shady spot and laid down after thoroughly sniffing the dead bloatflies.

There were maybe a half-dozen sun-baked graves, scattered under a creaking water tower. My eyes locked right on the open grave near the edge of the cliff. Dried blood stained the nearby dirt black. I frowned heavily, staring at the grave for a few minutes before Sunny’s hand on my shoulder pulled me back to reality.

“Look at the mess those thugs made of the place,” She indicated to the state of the graveyard. Discarded bottles and cigarette butts were scattered around my grave, and one of the grave markers was knocked over. Sunny walked over to the overturned marker and picked it up, driving it back into the dry soil.

I stepped closer to the open grave, remembering the explosion of pain I felt when the suited man shot me. I shook my head softly to clear it and knelt down to examine my own blood, but something else caught my eye. There were a handful of cigarette butts near the head of my grave, Royal Crown Golds. I’d only seen the Reds before, they were the most popular before the war. I gathered up the butts and carefully put them into a pocket of my duffel.

I looked over to Sunny, “I think I’m ready to head back to town.”

“Good, you can meet Trudy. Those Khans spent some time in the saloon.” She gave me another one of her beautiful smiles, and I found myself smiling back at her. Our eyes met for a moment before we both looked away. My face felt hot.

I stayed a step behind Sunny as we walked back down the hill. The sunlight really brought out the red in her hair. She was wearing a jacket made of gecko leather, it looked hand-stitched. She had a practiced gait and stepped almost soundlessly, Cheyenne padding alongside her.

I followed her back into the saloon through the front door. Someone was arguing near the bar. A man in some sort of blue uniform was arguing with who I presumed was Trudy.

“I’m done being nice! If you don’t hand Ringo over soon, I’m getting my friends and we’re burning this town to the ground, got it?” The man threatened loudly, waving a fist in Trudy’s face.

My hand went for my pistol, but Sunny stopped me. Trudy was unshaken, she replied firmly, “We’ll keep that in mind. Now, if you’re not gonna buy something, get out.”

The man turned and walked out, glaring at me and sunny as he walked past, “The fuck are you looking at?”

I shook my head and walked up to Trudy, who was leaning on the bar now, “Trudy, right?”

She nodded, “You’ve been causing quite a stir. Glad I finally got to meet you. Welcome to the prospector Saloon.”

I gave her a polite smile, “Nice to meet you too. I couldn’t help overhearing your argument. Who was that guy?”

“He's a convict. Just without the chains. Said his name was Cobb. ’Powder Gangers’ is what they call themselves. Plenty more like him out there.”

“What’s his problem?”

“Well it looks like our little town got itself dragged into the middle of something we don't want anything to do with. About a week ago, this trader, Ringo, comes into town. Survivor of an attack, he says. Bad men after him, needs a place to hide. We figured he was just in shock, so we gave him a place to lie low. We didn't actually expect anyone to come after him.”

I sat down on a bar stool and Trudy walked around behind the bar. I asked her, “So what are you guys gonna do about it?”

“Well, Sunny and a couple other folks will probably stand up for Ringo if he asks for help, which he hasn’t. Personally I’m hoping he just sneaks out of town some night and takes the powder gangers with him,” She said, shaking her head.

“Why don’t you folks just kill Cobb and be done with it?”

“You mean murder him? That’s not our way, even if Cobb is scum. He can bluster and threaten all he wants.”

I nodded, “So where is Ringo? I’m leaving soon and he might want to come with me.”

“He’s holed up at the abandoned gas station on the hill. If you take him out of town, I’ll be mighty grateful.”

“Anyway, I wanted to ask you something else. Do you know anything about the men who attacked me? I’m trying to track them down.”

Trudy shook her head, “Not much, other than they're a bunch of freeloaders who expected a few rounds on the house. I was able to get them to pay up, though. Of course, one of the Great Khans did knock my radio to the floor ‘by accident,’ and it hasn't been working since.”

“Did they say where they were going?” I asked, putting my hands on the bar.

“They were having some kind of argument about it, but the guy in the checkered coat kept shushing them. Sounded like they came in from the north through Quarry Junction. If that's the case I can't say I blame them for not wanting to go back.”

“Why is that?” I was curious, that was the direction I was headed before this whole mess started.

“That whole stretch has been overrun with the kind of critters that just get mad if you shoot ’em lately, not to mention that’s the direction most of the powder gangers are coming from.”

I made a note about that. I would have to find another route to Vegas once I got my package back. I asked, “So where are they going?”

“I don’t know exactly, but the man in the suit was talking about The Strip. If they wanted to get there and avoid the I-15, they’d have to head east and take the 93 up.”

I nodded and memorized the route. I would have to check my atlas before I left, but for now I needed to go talk to Ringo. “Thanks for all your help, Trudy.” She nodded at me and I turned to walk out the door. Sunny was waiting for me beside the door, she smiled at me.

“Make sure and come see me before you leave, okay?” I suddenly felt sheepish, but nodded to her. She took my hand in hers, “I mean it.”

“I will, don’t worry.” I took my hand back and stepped back out into the midday heat.

I stepped onto the porch of the saloon, looking out into the desert. I stopped and took stock of everything. I could hear the old man snoring softly nearby. I could feel the omnipresent heat of the desert, and smell the dusty soil. It only took me a second, but I grounded myself and took a deep breath. I turned and walked up the hill towards the abandoned gas station.

I opened the door to the gas station and stepped through it, only to be greeted by the familiar sight of a nine millimeter pistol in my face. My vision went blurry and I snapped into action. The next thing I knew, I had a scrawny man, must be Ringo, in a chokehold.

“P-please let go of me,” He coughed out. I loosened my grip and let him go. He gasped for air briefly, “I’m sorry I threatened you. I thought you were one of the powder gangers.”

“Oh, good, you know they’re looking for you,” I said dryly. I danced a bit from toe to toe, adrenaline still coursing through my veins.

“I’m not too worried about them, long as they don’t all come at once,” Ringo said, glancing out the window behind me.

“Trudy in town seems pretty worried about them. She wants me to help you get out of town,” I watched Ringo take a seat on a crate.

“Why? Not to mention I don’t know you from Adam.” Ringo narrowed his eyes at me.

I returned the expression, “Because the powder gangers are looking for you, and it’s not long before they try attacking the town. And I’m Mari, a courier with Mojave Express, I’m on my way out of town and I’m offering to take you with me.”

Ringo shakes his head, “Me running away isn’t gonna get rid of the powder gangers. We need to take the fight to them. Then we can leave.”

“No offense, but I’ve already died once in this town. If the two of us go running down a whole gang, we’re gonna end up sharing a grave.”

“You seem pretty capable on your own, and if we can rally up some of the town’s folk, we can probably give Cobb and his friends a real run for their money.”

I chewed my lip and considered this for a moment, “Sunny would be willing to help, and I’m sure she could help me convince some of the other people in town.”

Ringo smiled, “Then it’s a plan. I’ll wait out here and you go rustle up a militia. We’ll show Cobb and his gang that they can’t just push people around.”

I was starting to like this Ringo, I nodded and stepped back out into the midday sun, it was time to find Sunny again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally started this back in 2018, and with the encouragement of a dear friend, I've decided both to resume work on it, and post it here on ao3.


	2. Ghost Town Gunfight

I stepped out of the gas station and looked down at the town below; even before the war so many years ago, it probably wasn’t a great view. I wandered back down to the saloon. The cool air and dim lights were a welcome salve for my constantly aching head. I rounded the corner into the bar proper and saw Sunny seated at the bar, talking quietly to Trudy.

“Sunny,” I tapped her shoulder, “I need your help with something.”

“Count me in,” She said, turning in her stool to face me with a smile.

“I didn’t even tell you what I need help with. It’s dangerous,” I warned, though I couldn’t help but smile at her smile. She seemed unphased, so I continued, “Ringo wants my help taking on the Powder Gangers. We just need a few more able guns.”

“Definitely count me in, those pricks have been trouble for a while now, and I just know they’re gonna come knocking eventually. Joe Cobb talks about leaving us alone if we hand over Ringo, but I know his type, he’ll never leave once he knows he can push us around.

“However, between you, me, and Ringo, we aren’t exactly a force to be reckoned with. We’ll probably need some more help; Trudy knows pretty much everyone in town.”

“So she should know who else is up to help,” I interject. Sunny nods.

“As for equipment, Chet at the general store buys most of my leather to make armour and has a horde of ammunition. It would take a hell of a silver tongue to convince him to part with it, though.” I leaned on the table behind me while Sunny talked.

“Doc Mitchell will probably share some Stimpaks, otherwise he’ll be patching everybody up once things are over,” She added.

Trudy leaned towards us from behind the bar, “I can’t help but overhearing you two planning on getting yourselves killed.”

I laughed quietly, “Maimed at best, our chances will be a lot better if you help out, though. There will be bullets, explosions, lots of fun.”

Trudy shook her head, but smiled at me, “I was planning on sitting this mess out, but for some reason I can't help but like you. I'm with you. Let me have a word with a few other folks and I'll see if I can't round up some more members for this militia you're creating.”

Sunny looked back to me, “That sure evens the odds. There’s another problem though; those powder gangers are gonna be packing dynamite. I’d feel a lot better if we had some too.”

Before I could answer, Trudy spoke up again, “I know Easy Pete used to have a stash of it, maybe he’s still got it around somewhere.”

“I’ll ask him, I need to go talk to Chet and the doctor anyway,” I told the women before thanking them and walking back out of the bar. Easy Pete was napping in his chair, where I saw him earlier. I wondered if the old man ever moved. I whistled a note to wake him up.

“Howdy,” He grunted, not lifting his hat from his eyes.

“I hear you've got dynamite. It would help us beat the powder gangers,” I told him, curtly.

He slowly shook his head, “Too dangerous. Gonna kill all yourselves if I let you touch it. Better to leave it buried - safer that way.”

“Now, I understand your concerns, but let me offer up an alternative; we don’t touch it. All I need is for you to set up some traps around the main road to town, that way when the powder gangers come marching in, they get blown to pieces before we do,” I told him, using my mellowest sales-pitch voice.

The old man considered my proposal, long enough that I started to worry he had gone back to sleep, before saying, “Uh huh. Guess that’s a good plan. I’ll go dig it up an’ get t’ work.”

I smiled at Pete and tipped my non-existent hat to him before walking next door and letting myself into Chet’s General Store. Like all the other buildings in town, the inside was dim and dingy. A couple strings of bare bulbs hung over hand-built shelves, holding dusty boxes of damn near anything. I almost tripped over a crate of mixed scrap metal on my way to the back of the store. I coughed softly to the small, beady eyed clerk sitting behind the counter. He looked up at me from a copy of ‘Dean’s Electronics.’

“Oh, you must be the one Doc Mitchell was patching up. The way I heard it, you weren’t gonna be walking out of that office. If you’re heading back out, I’ve got plenty of supplies for sale. I could patch up those leathers for you too, for a nominal fee,” He said, rather callously. He set down his book and sat up in his chair.

“Actually I came to talk to you about outfitting some people to help fight the powder gangers, Trudy’s already agreed-” 

He cut me off, “Now just hold on. I never voted to take on the Powder Gangers. That's easily a thousand cap investment you're talking about. I’d need to supply at least five or six people with leather armor, make sure their guns are up to snuff, and that they’ve got enough ammunition. It would take me months to make it up.”

I rolled my eyes contemptuously, “Okay, we’ll just let the powder gangers take over. You won’t have to worry about running a store anymore, since all your customers will be dead and all your goods will get looted.”

“I’m not going to let you bully me out of my stock, for all I know you’re-”

It was my turn to interrupt, “Fuck your stock, Chet, this is about human decency. We’re going to take out the real assholes, with or without your help. You’re determining whether we all make it back once the smoke clears. Whether your friends and neighbors make it back.”

Chet was completely taken aback, he looked meekly at the floor, “Okay, you made your point. Tell Trudy she can send over anyone who needs outfitting,” He paused, “And uh, I’ll be guarding the shop when this all goes down, okay?”

I adjusted my own padded leather jacket, before stripping it off and dropping it on Chet’s counter, “Go ahead and patch this up for me, I’ll also need some twelve gauge buckshot. I’m going to go talk to Doc Mitchell.”

I turned and left the store before Chet could start whining again. I nearly ran into Sunny as she passed a pile of crates in front of the General store. She briefly stared at me in my torn grey tank top, going a tiny bit red.

“Oh, uh, hi, Mari. I was just going to find Tim and Ramone. They help me hunt geckos sometimes so I figured they would help with the powder gangers.”

“That sounds good, you can send them straight to Chet, he agreed to help outfit everybody in our little militia. Tell Trudy too, okay?” I told her quickly before continuing back to Doc Mitchell’s house. I could feel her watching me go, and my own face got hot.

I knocked on the Doctor’s door a few times before he finally answered, “Welcome back, I was hoping you wouldn’t need me again so soon.”

I shook my head, “Don’t worry Doc, I’m not hurt. But I do need your help.”

“Well, come in out of the heat and I’ll see what can be done,” He said, before leading me back into his sitting room. I sat down on his threadbare sofa once more, while he brought a pot of coffee from his kitchen. I gratefully took a cup and he sat across from me.

I took a long sip before explaining, “Me and Sunny, Trudy too, actually, are gathering a militia together to take on the powder gangers when they come to collect Ringo. Chet’s outfitting us, and Pete’s setting some traps. I’m pretty confident it won’t get too messy, but if it does, we’re gonna need medical help.”

Doc Mitchell nodded solemnly, “Seems like wherever I go it's always the same. Folks just never leave each other alone. I'm not much good in a fight, with my bum leg, and my supplies are scarce. But I'll give you what I can spare. I’ve got some Stimpaks, and a handful of Med-X syringes,” He set down his coffee and stepped into the next room, collecting the drugs. “If anybody gets shot, give them a dose of both and bring them here as soon as the fight’s over. You know how these work, right,” He asked me as he set a handful of stimpaks down on the coffee table.

I nodded, “Inject them as close to the wound as you can, and the bleeding will stop. I’ve used them before.”

“Good, and remember, don’t give anybody more than two in an hour, or they’ll be regretting it. Careful with the Med-X, it’s real strong and real addictive,” He set the smaller syringes down beside the stimpaks. It was real expensive stuff too, pre-war, I wondered where Doc Mitchell got that many doses of it.

I quickly finished my coffee, and collected the medicine into my duffel. “Thanks for all your help, Doc,” I said in a friendly tone. 

Before I could stand up to leave he asked, “Before you go, how are you doing? I reckon you won’t have much time for a follow up visit any time soon.”

“Oh, I’m pretty good, all things considered,” I said, considering my own state of being, “My head hurts, and I’m no doctor, but I think that’s cause somebody shot it.”

Doc Mitchell couldn’t help but laugh, “That sounds about right, in my professional opinion. I’m more interested in knowing if you’re having any psychological symptoms, now. Sometimes a traumatic brain injury can really change a person.”

“Well, I’ve been seeing things, Doc,” I started, in a grave tone. Doc Mitchell listened carefully as I continued, “I saw a giant robot, with a cowboy for a face, and geckos bigger than dogs!” I laughed softly at my stupid joke and Doc Mitchell shook his head. “For real though, Doc, I’m pretty sure I’m fine. Thanks again.”

“You take care, okay? If you’re still dead-set on going to Vegas, stop in at the Old Mormon Fort when you get there and let them check you out, in case anything comes up,” Doc Mitchell told me, he led me back out to his front door and I bid him farewell before leaving.

The few remaining hours in the day passed by slowly. Chet left my jacket folded neatly on top of a crate by his front door, box of shells sat on top of it. He had patched the holes, and reinforced it with sturdy grey-green gecko leather. I didn’t bother thanking him, since he was surely busy outfitting the rest of the militia.

Ringo came down from his hideout to sit in the saloon and discuss plans with us. It was decided that Sunny and Ramone would take up vantage points on top of the saloon and general store. The rest of us: me, Ringo, Trudy, Tim, a woman called Cheryl, and a man called Rick, would hide around the town and we’d ambush the gang as soon as we heard the traps on the main road, or Sunny gave the signal. Finally, we agreed that they’d most likely show up at dawn, so we’d be ready before then.

When time came for Trudy to close up for the night, Sunny was almost a little too enthusiastic to offer me a place to sleep. I couldn’t help but giggle as I accepted. She took my hand happily and led me to her ramshackle house on the far side of the school building. 

She had a hand-dug fire pit in front of her house. I sat down beside it while she got a fire started before sitting with me. I smiled at her, waiting for her to say something. Instead she just smiled back before looking up to watch the sun disappear behind the mountains. I watched too, reaching for her hand after only a moment.

Eventually she spoke, “This is nice. I didn’t think we’d get along so quickly.” Sunny turned to give me a knowing smile. I returned it.

“I guess there’s a shortage of pretty girls around here,” I said, my smile turning to a smirk.

“It must be a lot different, out there, traveling. I’m sure you meet lots of pretty girls,” Sunny’s tone was wistful, and melancholy.

“I do. But it can be lonely too, the long stretches of nobody at all,” I gently rubbed her hand with my thumb.

“Do you ever travel with anybody else?” Sunny looked down at the fire, picking up a branch to poke it. 

I was quiet for a few moments, before I answered carefully, “I do - but it’s dangerous, what I do. I mean, you saw what happened to me.” I let go of her hand to gently touch the stitched wound on my head.

“I can handle myself,” She uttered, defensively. “And you wouldn’t believe how lonely it can be in Goodsprings.”

I nodded softly, watching Sunny watch the fire.

“It feels like a miracle, you showing up here. Not to mention you surviving that attack,” Sunny stopped her prodding and threw the branch on top of the fire, making a shower of sparks rain into the night sky. She turned to face me.

“You know I have to leave, right? I have to find the man who shot me and get my revenge,” The fire was reflecting in her eyes. The sun was gone and it was just the two of us in the firelight. She turned her body towards mine and took my hand in both of hers. I hoped she couldn’t see my cheeks burning.

“Take me with you, Mari. I don’t care how far, ple-,” She stopped mid-word, because I was kissing her. I wrapped my arms around her as I pressed my lips against hers. I could feel the warmth of her face on mine. I could feel her toned muscles under her gecko-skin jacket. When I tried to pull away, she pulled me back.

We didn’t talk for the rest of the night. We sat, entwined, next to the fire until it started to burn low. She took me inside and we shared a small bed. I had no problem being close to her under the thin sheet she used as a blanket. I slept soundly and dreamlessly, knowing we would leave together, assuming we both survived tomorrow.

Dawn came sooner than either of us wanted, I woke up when Sunny rolled out of her bed and yawned loudly. Judging by the pale light filtering into the shack, it couldn’t be later than five in the morning. I sat up and watched Sunny getting dressed. I smiled softly before she tossed my clothes at me. “Up and at ‘em, Courier, we’ve got a town to save,” She said cheerfully.

I got dressed quickly and started getting my things ready. “You get to your position, Sunny. I’ll be out there soon,” I told her, before leaning over to peck her lips, she looked ever so slightly stunned. She nodded and shouldered her rifle before heading out the door.

I quickly cleaned and loaded my shotgun, then slung it over my shoulder. I unscrewed the silencer from my pistol, I wouldn’t be needing it now, and slid the gun into its holster at my hip. I made sure I had extra shells and a spare magazine at hand, then clipped the stimpaks to my belt. I made my way out of Sunny’s home and towards the front of town. I could see Sunny and Ramone up on top of the buildings, while the rest of us crouched behind what cover was available.

It was almost an hour before Sunny whistled a bird cry, I peeked over the large rock I was behind and counted seven men coming toward the town from the highway. We had agreed not to fire until they reached Pete’s traps at the front edge of town. The group was dressed mostly in blue prisoner’s uniforms, or guard armor. I recognized Cobb at the front of the group, wielding a shotgun. He looked like the best equipped out of the group, a couple of the other men didn’t even have guns. They swung baseball bats, or meat cleavers. I didn’t underestimate them, though, surely they were packing their weight in dynamite.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t Cobb who stepped into the first trap, but one of his cronies. The man didn’t even realize he had hit the tripwire before a huge explosion threw him skyward, in at least two pieces. Immediately we jumped to action, Sunny and Ramone acting as snipers while the rest of us started firing from cover. The powder gangers barely knew what hit them, someone shot Cobb in the neck, and another two of them stepped into traps. The whole ordeal was over in minutes. The powder gangers were dead or dying, and the townspeople were unharmed. I stepped out of cover, carefully aiming my shotgun towards the carnage. 

“All Clear!” I shouted, causing everyone to step out of cover to see the violence. Easy Pete toddled out of the saloon, carrying a sarsaparilla bottle in one hand, and wire cutters in the other.

“Careful now. Traps,” He mumbled loudly, going ahead of me to disarm anything that didn’t get tripped.

I quietly watched the old man working, resting my shotgun on my shoulder. I heard footsteps behind me, followed by Ringo’s voice, “I owe you a huge favor for this. Here - these are technically Crimson Caravan funds, but I know they'll understand once I explain things.” 

I turned around to see him offering me a bag of caps. As I took the bag from him, I smirked and asked, “I don’t remember us discussing a payment, where’d this come from?”

“I’m not the kind of person who lets someone stick up for me without paying them. When we reach Vegas I’ll talk to my higher ups and they’ll likely double what I gave you.”

“Damn, I’m not complaining,” I chuckled softly, then smiled as I saw Sunny walking out from between the saloon and general store. I waved to her and she jogged over.

“I can’t believe how easy that was. Did anybody get hurt?” Sunny asked, looking around a bit.

“Not at all, the plan worked perfectly,” I said, confidence in my voice. I put my arm around Sunny and pulled her close to kiss her briefly, ignoring Ringo’s stare and appreciating her blush. 

She laughed shyly as I let her go. “Trudy wants to treat you to breakfast before you- we, leave.”

Ringo looks between the two of us, speaking up, “You’re coming with us, Sunny?” She nodded quietly, while I started towards the saloon to meet back up with Trudy.

Once inside the saloon, I took a few deep breaths to clean the smell of gunpowder and blood from my nose. I sat for a moment in the dark, quiet saloon. I wondered to myself, ‘How many of these people have killed before? Who’s going to have nightmares about those men being blown to pieces?’ I shook the thoughts from my head, like so many tumbleweeds. The wasteland was a violent place, and it was kill-or-be-killed. Still, sometimes it can haunt you, knowing you’ve ended a life. Ended many lives.

I was sitting at the bar, staring at bottles when Sunny, Trudy, and Ringo walked in. Sunny and Ringo joined me at the bar, while Trudy took up her station behind it. 

“I’m glad that business is over. I like it when Goodsprings is nice and quiet,” Trudy said, not directly to anyone in particular. “It’s a miracle nobody got hurt, or more likely, your careful planning.”

“Thanks, I’m glad too. Do y’all need help cleaning up?” I offered, smiling warmly at Trudy.

Trudy shook her head, “Nah, you’ve done enough for us. The townsfolk will take care of the bodies. For now, I’d like to treat you to a home-cooked meal before you head on out.” Trudy’s tone was friendly, but I could tell she wanted me and my brand of trouble out of her town. She lifted an electric griddle up onto the bar and plugged it in, “You sit pretty, I’ll whip up something nice.

I smiled softly and propped my head up by my hand, with an elbow on the bar. Out of sight I laced my fingers with Sunny’s. I hadn’t eaten in I’m-not-sure-how-many days, and the idea of food was enough to put me in a trance. I watched carefully as Trudy started pulling ingredients from a cooler under the bar, gecko steak and eggs, jalapenos, what looked like a bottle of brahmin, or maybe bighorner milk. Soon she was beating them all together in a bowl and I was surely salivating by the time the eggs hit the griddle.

“You still with us, Mari?” Sunny asked as she gently shook my shoulder. I didn’t realize she had been talking for the last few minutes.

“Oh, yes. Um, what were you saying?” I tore my eyes away from the sizzling omelette to look at Sunny.

“I was asking how you’re getting to Vegas,” Sunny said with a laugh.

“I’m not heading north, Trudy said that route was overrun with monsters. I’ll need to double check with my atlas, but I’m pretty sure the next fastest way would be up the 93. That’s only a couple days out of the way.” I glanced back at the precious eggs.

“Primm is on the way, south of here. I haven’t been since the NCR set up out there though, that was a couple years ago,” Sunny said.

The New California Republic. I’ve had my dealings with them, but they usually left a bad taste in my mouth. They pride themselves on being the only real post-war government, and they’ve got the cities and citizens to back it up. The only problem is that they expand fast and hard, and gobble up anybody in their way. They like to build railroads and put up big ugly concrete buildings. I always felt like they just wanted to be pre-war America, with all the same problems. Being in NCR territory made me want to move out to New Canaan and be a rancher.

“I probably won’t hang around long. I don’t like the NCR much,” I said idly, watching Trudy find some plates and forks.

Trudy interjected, “They’re not bad folk, I think they’re trying too hard to take the Mojave, though. They’re spreading their resources thin, but I feel like they keep people safe.”

“Carting all those violent prisoners out here and arming them with dynamite sure made the Mojave a lot safer,” I replied with an eye roll.

Trudy just shook her head a little and passed me a plate of omelette, putting an immediate end to the conversation. The eggs were rich and fluffy, with bits of gamy gecko meat and spicy jalapeno. I was halfway into my meal when Sunny looked up from her plate to Trudy.

“So,” She paused, picking her words, “I’ve decided to leave town, with Mari, when she goes. I don’t know if I’ll go as far as Vegas, but I think this is a good opportunity for me to do some traveling and see what’s out there.”

Trudy frowned, putting her hands flat on the bar. She sighed softly before speaking, “Well, you know we need you here, but I supposed we’ll make do without you. You’re at that age when young folks are prone to wander, so this makes sense.” Trudy looked at me then, “And seeing this morning’s performance, I reckon you’re gonna be in good hands.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page then,” Sunny said, before flashing a smile, “I’ll be back before you know it. Don’t worry.”

Less than an hour later, we were ready to set out. Trudy and a few other townspeople saw us out to the edge of town after making sure we had rations for the walk south. The heat of the day still hadn’t set in, so the hike was easy. 

We were a mile down the road, where the road met the I-15, when a pair of rough looking men stepped onto the road in front of us. They had been waiting behind a road sign showing the directions of Primm and Vegas. Both men looked to be Powder Gangers from the way they were dressed.

“Tch, stop right there,” Barked one of the gangsters, he had a poorly shaped goatee and leaned on a shotgun like it was a cane.

His companion, who was swinging a crowbar from one hand, interrupted him, “Yeah, this is our territory and you’re gonna pay us a toll if you wanna pass by with your knee-caps still on.”

I calmly walked closer to them, “Oh, of course. My bad, fellas.” They smirked back and forth while I lifted my duffel to my waist and reached inside of it. The poor bastard with the shotgun was in for a real shock when I smashed that sarsaparilla bottle upside his head. While he was recovering, I grabbed the other one’s crowbar and jammed the pointed end into his stomach, causing him to double-over in pain. Before either had recovered, Sunny and Ringo had their guns trained on each.

“Trying to rob me was a big fuckin’ mistake,” I said, taking a step back and leveling my shotgun. Both men dropped their weapons and put their hands up, I gently shoved the barrel of my shotgun in Goatee’s face. “Now, both of you, start walking,” I ordered, nodding towards the north road. “Keep your hands in the air and go.”

Both men kept their hands straight up and hurried to start up the northbound road. I knelt down and scooped up their weapons and shoved them in my duffel.

“Should’ve shot the assholes,” Ringo said, holstering his pistol.

“Why? We had them disarmed. It wouldn’t’ve been right to kill them,” Sunny responded, watching the men keep walking north. I nodded in agreement.

“Now they’re just gonna go bother someone else,” Ringo said with a shrug, turning and starting south towards Primm. I shrugged, let my shotgun hang off my shoulder, and followed him. Sunny watched the men for a few seconds longer before turning and catching up to us.

Walking long and dusty roads was my life. I was content to watch the horizon in silence. My new companions were less prone to silence. Ringo told us how he had been headed north towards Vegas with a trade caravan when a gang of convicts, those ‘Powder Gangers,’ started shooting. They didn’t even bother trying to hold up the caravan, they just charged them with shotguns and six-shooters. Three men and two brahmin ended up dead.

I watched a pair of geckos sprint across the highway about half a mile ahead. Sunny noticed them too and pointed them out. “Hunting those little monsters is two-thirds of my livelihood. They’re nasty and aggressive, but their skin is tough as all get-out.”

The geckos disappeared into the desert, and I felt my lips curling into a smile as Sunny continued. “Of course that skin’s why you hunt them. It makes great tough leather. The trick is to shoot them in the mouth or eyes. I’ve had bullets bounce right off their skin before.”

Ringo shielded his eyes from the sun and interrupted Sunny’s lesson, “I take it you’ve never encountered a Deathclaw.” I shuddered at the name.

Sunny looked over her shoulder at him, “What, those are real?”

“Oh they’re real. Ten feet tall and made of hate and rage. And you thought geckos had tough skin? These sons-of-bitches can eat a missile and just get angrier.”

“You’re pulling my leg. Deathclaws are just a story to scare kids.”

I finally spoke up, “They’re real. I’ve seen my share of them. Never closer than a mile. The stories exaggerate them a lot, but they’ll kill the shit out of you. I saw a whole town pack up and leave because a pair of them decided their brahmin would make good eating. Chance is if you’ve seen one, it can smell you.” I looked back at Sunny, who had a bit of a frightened look. I offered her a smile, “We shouldn’t run into any. They’re more common back west.”

We stopped to rest a few minutes near a half-collapsed highway sign. Ringo sat in the shade and smoked. I downed a bottle of water and took out my atlas, casually flipping through the pages. Sunny pulled a pair of binoculars out of her pack and looked ahead down the road, then turned and started clambering up the sign to get a better vantage point. I watched her with an amused smile.

“I can see Primm,” She adjusted her binoculars, “It looks like the road there is clear. We should get there by sun-down.” Sunny started climbing back down.

I heard a small yelp when she lost her footing as she came down. I dropped my atlas in the dust and wheeled around, just in time to see her falling. I braced myself and put my arms out, catching her. Sort of. We both ended up on the ground, me flat on my back and Sunny on top of me. I caught my breath and laughed and put my arms around her.

“You need to be more careful,” I admonished her lightheartedly.

Sunny smiled down at me, “You were there to catch me.”

I grinned up at her. We got up off the ground and dusted ourselves off. I scooped up my atlas and tucked it back into my bag. Ringo tossed his cigarette butt away and stood up, “Come on, Ladies, we’re wasting daylight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This second chapter marks the end of what I originally wrote back in 2018.


End file.
